Chapter 1

The foyer lights flicked on.

When Dad walked in holding Ryland Jones' hand, his gaze landed on me. A satisfied smile curled across his face. "Good boy. I'm glad you know you were wrong."

I stayed kneeling without moving.

Ryland pouted. "Dad, Cal's so dirty. He looks like a homeless man."

Dad ruffled Ryland's hair, his voice gentle. "Don't be rude, Ryland. Callum knows he was wrong now. He'll behave from now on."

He turned to me and gave his order. "Go back to your room and clean yourself up. And don't come out without my permission."

I nodded stiffly, pushed myself to my feet, and headed upstairs like a machine.

The next day at lunch, a spread lay across the dining table.

Dad kept placing food onto Ryland's plate as he said warmly, "Have more of the fish. It's good for brain development. Have some ribs, too. They're your favorite."

Ryland chewed on a rib and mumbled through the food, "Thanks, Dad."

I sat quietly at the side without touching my cutlery, waiting for instructions. Dad finally glanced at me and said flatly, "Have your vegetables. No complaining."

"Okay, Dad."

I picked up my fork and took some greens from the salad bowl. The vegetables had long gone stale. They were wilted, soggy, and mushy against my teeth.

I kept chewing and swallowing repeatedly. It wasn't until Dad finally said, "That's enough if you're full," that I put down my cutlery and straightened my back.

"Ryland, look at how obedient Callum is," Dad remarked. "He eats whatever he's given without complaining. You should learn from him and stop being picky. Now, eat your fish."

He said it so casually, without the slightest hint of praise in his voice.

Ryland let out a dissatisfied huff. Then, he picked up a bowl of soup on the table and held it out toward me. "Cal, you can have my soup."

The moment he said that, he tilted the bowl. Hot soup splashed onto my arm and streamed down my sleeve.

"You're so dumb, Cal. You can't even catch a bowl," Ryland said provocatively, smugness written all over his face.

The heat scalded my skin, yet I showed no reaction at all.

Dad hurriedly grabbed a few napkins and wiped Ryland's hands first before turning toward me. "What's going on with you, Callum? You couldn't even catch the bowl. What if the soup had burned Ryland instead?

"You're the older brother. You're supposed to protect him. Understand?"

I nodded mechanically. "I understand, Dad. I'll protect Ryland."

Later, Dad beckoned our butler, Sebastian Smith, over and told him to take me upstairs to clean up. I followed Sebastian back to his room.

As he helped me change out of my clothes, he froze in shock at the sight of the dark purple bruises covering my arms and back. "Callum, where did you get these bruises from? They're serious."

I stood there blankly, my eyes lifeless.

He asked several more times, but I gave no response at all. In the end, he shook his head helplessly and went to look for Dad.

"Callum's covered in dark bruises, sir. I don't know where they came from, and he won't answer me."

Dad was peeling an apple for Ryland. At that, he replied dismissively without even looking up.